Crossing the stacks over the frozen river — or possibly estuary, it was so wide — was not at all good for Seoyeon’s heart.  The snow was falling thicker and faster now, and driven by an increasing wind that whipped her hair in front of her eyes so she could barely see where she was going, and her face and hands rapidly went numb.  Just four stacks out and the wind was suddenly roaring around them like it was storming through a wind tunnel, so strong it threatened to push her off the stacks and it felt like it could buffet her off course mid-leap between them.

That was scary enough without thinking of the drop below, or how slippery the landings were even with Chanyeol making sure to steady her each time and her shoes melting away the snow and ice so rapidly they often managed to start drying the rock beneath.  And then there was Chanyeol himself, often steadier than the rocks they were leaping between.  Seoyeon didn’t know how he managed it, since when he went ahead it was clear sometimes that the wind made him stagger, and there was one heart-stopping occasion where he landed badly and nearly went over the side.

It was not very long before the snow and wind were so bad that it was almost impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction.  Seoyeon was even more amazed that Chanyeol continued from stack to stack without any obvious qualms, because a lot of them were only barely visible and she would never have attempted the jumps without knowing he had just done them and was there to help her.  The only reassuring thing about the whole experience was when he would grab her hand or sometimes her arm as she landed to make sure she didn’t overbalance.  Every time she left the previous rock, even if the jump was barely more than a couple of feet, there was that horrible stomach-lurching moment as she was airborne that she panicked she’d misjudged, which honestly would not have been at all hard given the general conditions.

The landings Seoyeon liked the best were the ones where they had themselves a small plateau and could walk a few steps before they had to jump to the next one.  The worst were the ones where there was only just enough room for the two of them, though that did also have its perks because Chanyeol usually grasped her firmly around the waist to ensure she was safe while he sized up the next jump he had to make.

The landing that just about did her heart in was to a stack that just barely had room for Chanyeol to stand on it by himself.  If she’d been able to see it before making the jump, Seoyeon would have chickened out or tried to find another one to leap to, but she’d trusted Chanyeol when he called back to her, as usual, that it was safe, and it wasn’t until she was in midair that she was close enough to see that there wasn’t actually anywhere to land at all.  As if that wasn’t heart-stopping enough, Chanyeol all but grabbed her out of the air into his arms, somehow managing not to overbalance, and carefully set her down so that her feet were between his.

Thoroughly shaken, Seoyeon took advantage of being able to bury her head in his snow-soaked chest, her entire body quivering with cold and probably more than just a little shock.  She could feel the wind ripping through their clothes.

Chanyeol turned them carefully.  Seoyeon wondered how he was planning to make the next jump without knocking her down into the canyon.  His arms were still wrapped tightly around her, presumably because it wasn’t safe to let her go, and while it quite honestly felt very nice, it wasn’t quite nice enough for Seoyeon to want to spend the rest of her life trapped up on the stack like that.

“This d*mn weather,” she heard him muttering.  He was only just audible over the shrieking wind, even though his chin was practically resting on the top of Seoyeon’s head.  It was a good few moments before he spoke again.

“We’ll have to jump this one together,” he said.

“Does the next one also have no room?” Seoyeon squeaked.

“No — it’s an arch, it has plenty.  But I’ll knock you off if I jump alone.”

Seoyeon twisted as far as she dared to look over her shoulder.  She didn’t know if she was imagining it, but it seemed like the snow was even worse than before.  But after some serious squinting, she was able to make out the arch he was talking about.  It didn’t seem too far away, but equally, they hadn’t actually jumped together before and Seoyeon didn’t want to cause an accident unintentionally by doing so.

“You could throw me,” she suggested instead.

“Are you sure?” Chanyeol asked immediately, and his tone of voice indicated that he had actually considered it before deciding against it.  She wondered if going against what he’d advised was a good idea.

“Yes?” she managed.  “If… if you think you can throw me far enough.”

“Not an issue.  I just didn’t think you’d like it much,” he told her.

“I don’t care, just do whatever’s safest to get us off this stack!”

Seoyeon didn’t know how he managed to laugh at her when they were so precariously balanced on the rock tower buffeted by a snowy gale, or why he found her so amusing, but somehow, he did.  Before she knew where she was, he’d hooked his arm under her knees to lift her up.

“Roll to break your fall,” he advised, and launched her out into the air.  She was so taken aback that she only took his advice at the last minute, and pain struck all the way up her left side as she landed badly, albeit cushioned by a thick layer of snow.  Pushing herself to her feet, she chafed her left arm under the cloak, but only succeeded in numbing it further with her frozen hand.  There was so much snow that it had even managed to get through the thick wool and make it damp.  The only parts of her still warm and dry were her feet, thanks to the shoes, but the flames did seem to be flagging a little.  (Seoyeon wondered if that was just her imagination.)

A particularly strong gust of wind sent her staggering just into Chanyeol’s path as he landed with a soft crunch of snow beneath his boots, and she grabbed at him before she could overbalance and topple off the arch.  That sent him staggering too, but he dug his heels in, trapping her around the waist once more to keep her safe and shielding her from the worst of the wind with his body.  The arch was a few feet long but not all that wide, so while they had room to manoeuvre they still had to be careful about it.  Once she had got her bearings back, Seoyeon peered ahead, trying to see where they were going next.

It looked like Chanyeol’s fears of a blizzard might be becoming realised, because visibility was so poor she could hardly make out a thing.  She tilted her head up to look at Chanyeol.

“Um,” she began, only to be distracted when he looked down at her and his arm, which was still around her, shifted, automatically pulling her closer into his side.  Seoyeon’s mind went blank.

When he realised she wasn’t going to say anything, Chanyeol looked up again, surveying the slurry of snow all around them.  Seoyeon thought she heard him mumbling something along the lines of “this is ridiculous” before he let go of her, but it was difficult to tell with the wind.  He made a few shapes with his hands, experimental, as though testing something out.  Flames flickered briefly at his fingertips.  Then he nodded to himself and turned back to her.  Seoyeon could see his mouth moving, but the wind stole the words away, and she looked blan